


end to my migration

by spock



Category: The Halcyon (TV)
Genre: Bickering, Class Differences, Developing Relationship, Domestic, Established Relationship, Future Fic, House Hunting, M/M, Make the Yuletide Gay, Post-Season/Series 01, Post-World War II, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21827869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spock/pseuds/spock
Summary: “That’s funny,” Toby says, making sure that his voice doesn’t carry down the platform. “I thought the point was for us to have a place to bugger ourselves silly.”
Relationships: Toby Hamilton/Adil Joshi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 30
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	end to my migration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merle_p](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merle_p/gifts).



The war ending had brought with it more good than Toby could comprehend most days. What he routinely finds himself appreciating most is that the hotel’s patrons-at-large were no longer prone to absconding themselves into the basement at a siren’s notice. His once-private space was, at last, his again. 

There was an hour of day when even the staff wouldn’t be around, too busy to spare the time needed to venture down for whatever odds nor ends they might require, and he enjoys a moment’s quiet to himself, only the faint, muted echo of the band above making it through to him below. Alone at last. 

Or so he thought. A hand shoots out from between a pair of shelves, taking him by the front of his jacket and yanking him forward. It’s dark enough that Toby can’t see a damn thing in front of him, but he’s more than capable of recognizing Adil by the feel of his lips at this point, soft and lush against his own. 

Toby’s hands come up to slip around under Adil’s dinner jacket, wrists settling themselves at the base of his spine, quite comfortable to rest at the dip before his arse swells. “You’re lucky I didn’t strike you,” Toby says. They’ve gotten quite good at having conversations like this. Secrets are so much easier to keep when spoken directly into another’s mouth. 

“As if you could.” Adil shifts to nose at his cheek, dotting kisses along his jaw. 

The gall. “I was a soldier, in my own way!” 

Adil’s laugh is a hot rush of air near his temple. His teeth press into Toby’s skin as he smiles. “You served for the war office, yes, I am aware.” 

Toby slips his arms down lower, taking Adil into his hands and squeezing in warning. “I didn’t come down here to be harassed, you know.” 

“I know exactly what you came down here for,” Adil says, and Toby does not appreciate the insinuation at all. His hands settle on Toby’s shoulders, sliding down his chest to push Toby back, creating a modicum of space between them. “I came down for a reason myself.” 

He likes the sound of that even less. “What’s the matter?”

Adil laughs again, and while Toby prefers it infinitely more when can feel Adil’s amusement, it’s still a gorgeous sound to experience from a distance all the same. “It isn’t anything bad,” Adil says. “I’m thinking about moving.” 

Toby’s whole world comes crashing down around his head. “From London?” The words stick in his throat. 

Adil’s hands curl around his neck, pulling he and Toby close once more, their foreheads touching. “No, you silly thing,” he says, his tone of voice is impossibly soft. “Why do you always run head-first into the worst possible thought?” Toby shivers, Adil’s voice washing over his nerves. “From Paddington.”

His mind alights with possibilities. He tightens his arms around Adil, pulling them even closer, and kisses him with excitement. “To the hotel?” 

The question earns him another laugh, one that he gets to enjoy as a full-bodied experience, and it goes a long way to keeping him from minding that Adil’s outright mocking him now. “What?” he demands.

“No, not at the bloody hotel.” Adil pinches his cheeks. “That would rather undermine the point of giving me having a private place for own own. Not like we can ever head back to my room at the boarding house, can we?” 

Toby’s spine straightens. They’re particularly of a height, but there are times of the day where Toby likes to reassure himself that he is the taller of the two of them. In moments like these, his nose brushing at Adil’s temple, it’s quite easy to believe it. 

“Adil,” he says, a current of wonder threading through his voice. “You’re brilliant.”

* * *

The first flat that Adil books a viewing to is in Camden. Toby invites himself along, reassuring Adil that he has the time, even if it does require him to reschedule some of his meetings at the university. The only way for the viewing to work at all with Adil’s schedule was to fit it in during the early part of the afternoon, before his shift was due to start. Toby’s schedule is infinitely more flexible in comparison.

“This would be so much easier if you let me _do_ something,” Toby says, and feels rather proud of himself that it doesn’t sound nearly as much as a whine as it likely should. By _something_ he means any number of things: easier if Adil would let him fetch them a bloody taxi so that they wouldn’t have to leg it to the other side of town; easier if Toby could give an opinion on these supposed bargains that Adil is finding through various postings that he refuses to share; and most of all, easier if he let Toby contribute any sort of monetary assistance at all. 

Adil ignores him, walking at far too fast a clip for a man forced to share at least a handful of drinks each night with the hotel’s clientele. “What did I say?” 

Toby hastens to catch up with him, though he doubts a day will ever pass that’ll see an unkind word pass the seal of lips when it comes to Adil’s magnificent set of legs. “I haven’t said anything!” They wait for a rush of traffic to pass, crossing the street once the coast is clear. “Not that you’d listen to me if I did,” he adds, just to be petty.

“You really haven’t got to be here.”

“Alright, I’ll stop.” Toby wishes that he could take Adil’s hand, that they could walk like any of the other couples making their way down the street alongside them. Just then, Adil’s shoulder bumps into his own and Toby looks to see what he’s about. 

Adil’s smile is small, private, though his eyes are alight. Toby returns the look for an instant, and then they’re both facing forward again. “Anyway, I’m not about to let you pretend to either of us that you aren’t a man of taste,” Toby adds. “You can’t fool me.” 

“Let’s not go that far.” Adil nods to the left and they both make a turn at the intersection, crossing over to the other side of the street. “I haven’t seen the place yet either.”

A rowdy set of girls make their way past, giving Toby an excuse to crowd next to Adil, practically looming over him as they avoid spilling out onto the busy street. Adil gives him a look from the corner of his eye, which Toby expertly pretends not to see. “I’ll stop teasing you,” he says, once the group has passed. “I’m just excited, I suppose. What if this is it?” 

Adil gives him the particular smile he saves for instances where he thinks Toby is being especially posh, and as a result, quite thick. “You don’t say?”

* * *

The flat is most certainly not it.

“I think just doing the walk-through has exposed us to tetanus,” Toby says, and is only mildly joking. 

It’s quite obvious to his eye that Adil agrees, and would say as much if it wasn’t himself that he would be mocking in this particular instance. “It was the first one we looked at,” he says diplomatically. “My father says you have to see at least five before you get any sort of sense for what you're looking for.”

Toby manages to get Adil to agree that they should take the tube back down to Holborn, and they wait at Camden Road for the train to come in. “Maybe you should let your father pick something out, then.”

He hadn’t meant it as a slight at all, but it seems as if it's landed as such. Adil levels him with a look that does make him feel thick, this time around. “The whole point of this is that I’m meant to be moving out on my own.”

There isn’t anyone close by, and all this talk of independence makes Toby feel as if he’s entitled to be a little reckless. “That’s funny,” he says, making sure that his voice doesn’t carry down the platform. “I thought the point of it was for us to have a place to bugger ourselves silly.”

Rare enough as it is to draw out, the blush that settles under Adil’s skin is an extraordinary sight to behold, and Toby cherishes it’s unexpected sighting immensely. Adil’s hand comes up to hide it, large palm covering up most of his face as he mutters, “Toby bloody Hamilton,” under his breath. The best part of it all is that Adil can’t seem to stop smiling. 

Toby has no such compulsion to hide his grin. “Really?” he asks, genuinely intrigued to have inspired such a reaction. “Don’t you ever call me ridiculous again, you hypocrite!” 

“Oh, sod off.”

* * *

Toby doesn’t quite care what wisdom Mr Joshi passed on to his youngest, Adil and he go through five more viewings within the month, each of which inspires less confidence within him than the last. He can tell that even Adil is starting to lose hope, not that the self-righteous streak in him would ever let him admit it.

The more the search drags on, the more Toby has to bite back his attempts at offering assistance, knowing that Adil is set against taking it in the manner Toby intends. They still have his room at the hotel, at least, and Adil has become a master at sneaking up from the bar under the pretense of delivering coffee, an aperitif to hold them over until his shift is done and he can retire to Toby’s bed for the rest of the evening, short as it may be. 

He apparently tells his parents that the hotel provides a room during the work-week. Toby only wishes that he could get away with such blatant fabrications with his mother. 

It’s something to think about at another time. Toby hears the latch on the door go, Adil letting himself in. He pretends to be engrossed with his reading, smiling wildly when Adil cuddles him up into his arms, using his weight to pitch Toby to the side, pressing him down into the bed. 

“Well good evening to you too, then,” he says. 

“We saw one another not two hours ago,” Adil levels back. 

As if Toby’s the one being ridiculous here. "I think you meant to say that into the mirror, darling.”

He can feel Adil’s smile against the nape of his neck, happiness practically emanating off of him. Toby tries to roll in his arms, get a look at him, but Adil holds him firm, keeping him in place. “Alright, what’s got you so happy then?” Toby asks. 

“I’ve found it,” Adil says, sounding satisfied with himself. Toby wants to care about the actual content of his words, he really does, but his attempts at getting free have aligned their bodies rather delightfully, and he’s always found Adil’s confidence to be one of the most attractive things about him, a particular list has become increasingly endless. 

“Found what?” Toby asks, just for want of something to say.

“My flat.” Adil squeezes him tighter still. “Are you listening to me at all, Toby?”

“Not if you keep that up.” He puts some actual effort into getting free this time, and manages out of Adil’s hold, falling over himself to look back at Adil, his fringe a wild mess blocking the sight of his right eye. “What do you mean _your flat_?”

* * *

Their respective schedules being what they are, it’s been chore enough to find moments where their days overlapped as it stood. The house madness had made it exponentially worse.

Toby wakes early that morning or a lecture, his body revolting against him, only just managing to fall asleep a few hours prior. 

When he returns home he goes straight up to his room and succeeds in kipping just long enough for him to wake up disoriented, squinting at the clock mounted to the wall on the other side of the room. He wonders, not for the first time, if it wasn’t time that he invested in a pair of glasses. He stretched his legs out towards either edge at the end of the bed, flexing his toes. He should look into seeing if Adil fancied them or not. 

Speaking of. 

Toby forces himself to get up, realizing that Adil’s shift must’ve started about an hour past. He redresses himself in the same suit he’d worn that morning, unwilling to dress up lest his mother catch him and try to trap him in a conversation with polite society. 

Adil is as the bar, looking rather tired himself, though doing a much better job of hiding it than Toby is sure he himself is. 

“What’re you having,” Adil asks, smile polite. “Mr Hamilton?”

Toby doesn’t need to consider it. “Water,” he says. “If you’d be so kind.” 

“Of course, sir.” Adil’s smile doesn’t so much as shift, but his eyes light up in a way that never fails to drive Toby mad. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll join you.”

“I’d be honored,” Toby says. “What are we drinking to?” 

Adil shrugs, handing him the glass. Their fingers overlap for a moment, and Toby pouts at him when separate let go. “Staying upright on our feet.”

Toby laughs through his nose. “Gosh,” he says, “I’ll drink to that.” 

He polishes off his glass in one pull, near-drowning himself so that he finishes before Adil, enjoying the sight of him with his head thrown back, throat working. 

“What are you doing tonight?” Toby asks. 

Adil deflates at the question, groaning. “I’m still getting the flat set up.”

Toby blinks at him. “You cannot be serious.” 

It says something that Adil doesn’t bother rising to the bait, looking much too tired for an argument. “I’m going to take a break once the clock has gone past the hour,” he says, nodding his chin toward the door leading out to the main hall. “And you look very tired, sir. Would you perhaps like me to bring you a carafe before I step out?”

He sighs. “Thank you be lovely, thank you Adil. You are such a dear.” 

Adil takes thee glass from him. “Don’t push your luck,” he says.

Toby figures that it’s probably worthwhile advice. He returns to his room, leaving the latch undone, and drops down onto his bed, only meaning to shut his eyes for a moment. 

He wakes to the feeling of Adil running his hands through his hair. “This isn’t what I had in mind when I said I’d sneak up to your room.”

“Funny,” Toby doesn’t bother to open his eyes, shifting around on the bed until his head is resting in Adil’s lap. “It’s exactly what I was hoping to have happen.”

“I do have to return to work eventually.” 

Toby frowns. “I do own the hotel.”

Adil flicks his forehead. Toby looks up at him with one eye, the other scrunched resolutely shut. “You’re a child.”

That earns him another tap. “Tell me again about all the things you own.” 

“Oh, alright.” Toby sits up, pushing his fringe out of his face. “I get it, you don’t want me helping with the rent, I can’t talk mother into giving you a raise, I shouldn’t be helping you to buy furniture, and besides, I’m not allowed to see the damn place until you’ve got it all settled, does that sound like the gist of it?”

Adil moves in, taking Toby’s face between the palms of his hands and kissing him rather soundly, if only just the once. “You got it in one,” he says, and then kisses Toby again. 

It’s positive reinforcement, is what it is, essentially textbook, but the knowing doesn’t do much to stop it from working. He nuzzles his nose against Adil’s, fortifying his resolve, and then says, “You do have to let me buy you a housewarming gift.” Adil opens his mouth, undoubtedly to complain, but Toby carries on. “It’s only normal, friends do it all the time, as do couples. I think you’ll find that I’ve respected all your nonsense, the least you can do is indulge mine.”

“Alright.”

Toby feels a little like the wind’s been taken from his sails. “You aren’t teasing me, are you?” 

“No.” Adil shoves at him until Toby’s laying again. Adil slides down next to him, their heads sharing the pillow. “But only one thing.”

“One thing,” Toby agrees, knowing exactly what he’ll buy.

“And it can’t be more than my rent,” Adil adds, looking suspicious. 

Lucky for Toby, he hasn’t the faintest what it is Adil’s signed on to pay, and Adil needn’t see the receipt besides. “Sure thing.”

* * *

After weeks of having to share Adil with whatever it is he gets up to at that flat of his, Toby’s day in the sun finally arrives.

“Don’t come by before six,” Adil instructs, serious. “Toby.”

“I’m listening!” Toby rolls his eyes, trying for a third time to keep Adil in bed with him. It isn’t as if he’s even scheduled to work, neither of them is, a rare shared day off and Adil's wasting it by running away. “My gift should be delivered today, so the timing couldn’t be better.”

Adil leaves, and Toby feels he’s being only marginally melodramatic to say that he takes Toby’s heart with him.

The day passes as slowly as possible. He tells himself that he’s being ridiculous, but the moment the clock strikes three, Toby rushes himself into the bathroom to get ready. 

It’s just his luck that his mother catches him in the hallway as he’s set to leave, leveling him with a frown and waving for him to follow her into her room. “And where are you off to?” she asks, having installed herself on the sofa to interrogate him. Toby hopes that his remaining standing will help speed the whole process along. “Are you about to go calling on a young lady, I wonder.”

Toby isn’t anywhere near the mood to deal with this tonight, eyes transfixed on the clock his mother keeps on the table. “Absolutely not, mother,” he says, beyond even humouring her. “I’m, well — a friend of mine has just finished moving house, and I’m going to a party he’s throwing.”

His mother’s eyebrows climb up the slope of her forehead. “Oh?” She asks. “Who? I’m glad to see you're making nice with someone besides your brother.”

Given that he hopes to spend a great deal of his time there, Toby figures that he may as well seed the grounds now, while she’s amenable. “Adil,” he says. She blinks at him. “The barman, from downstairs.”

She doesn’t seem to know what to say. “The Asian one? However in the world did you two get on?”

Toby sighs. “He’s very interesting, mother,” he says. “And funny. I suppose working at the war office made me realize how much bigger the world is than we give it credit for.” 

It’s obvious that she isn’t sure how to go about that at all. “How modern,” she says eventually, diplomatic as ever. “I suppose it’ll be the working man keeping us in business, now. But really Toby, the _barman_. You really do go right to the root of it, don’t you? Though I shouldn't exect any less, considering your brother — I suppose it could be much worse, on that front. Although, I hope he doesn’t expect favors?”

Toby wished. “I think he’d actually murder me if he suspected I played favourites, or gave him any sort of charity. Some mornings I can’t even get him to smile at me.”

“Sounds like he’s got a good head on his shoulders,” she says, giving him her amused eyebrows, the rest of face staying perfectly respectable, the closest she ever comes to teasing outright. Then she pauses, giving him a considering look. “ _You_ aren’t thinking of moving, are you?”

“Honestly mother,” he says, and then her phone goes, and he’s dismissed.

He hires a car, unwilling to risk getting lost in the post-work shuffle. He recites the address carefully to the driver, and tries not to squirm in his seat from excitement. He's let off at the start of the street, the road too narrow for the car to risk it. Toby counts the numbers of the terraced houses carefully, until he reaches the one that should be Adil’s. The street is quiet, discrete. The flat itself has a fresh coat of paint on the outside, and a ribbon tied to the banister. 

Toby knocks on the door, realizing that what he’d previously labeled as nervousness is actually his feeling giddy. It hits him, then, what he’s achieved with his mother, her tertiary approval, and can’t wait to tell Adil all about it. 

Adil, who answers the door near-instantaneously, almost as if he’d been standing on the other side of it, waiting. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Adil says, instead of any sort of polite greeting. “A bed, Toby? Honestly.”

Adil steps backward as Toby steps into the threshold, allowing him in. What he can make of the house from his view at the entryway is very Adil, dark colors and lush fabrics adorning the space. 

The thing is, now that he’s finally here, Toby realizes that he doesn’t care at all what it looks like, because it’s Adil’s, and Adil has invited him there as his guest. 

He catches Adil in his arms and kisses him, moving them both from the hallway and into the living room, depositing Adil on the arm of his sofa, bending down to kiss him. “You won’t believe what I’ve done,” he says.

“Beyond the bed? You know I already have one of my own, Toby.”

“Sod the bed,” Toby kisses him again, grinning. “Sell whatever second-hand travesty you had before and just say _Thank you, Toby_ for once in your life. I’m trying to tell you what I’ve done!”

Adil rolls his eyes. “Thank you, Toby,” he says, and the dryness of his tone could rival the deserts in Arabia, yet when he kisses Toby the appreciation is palpable. “Would you like to see your investment, then? I just finished dressing the bed when you knocked.”

Well, Toby supposes, he can tell Adil all about all the rest of it later. There are certainly more pressing matters at hand. “Lead the way.”


End file.
